Lilium
by Asukai Haruka
Summary: AU Katarina is a delinquent with a mile-long crime record, kicked in and out of various schools as the county has no idea what to do with her, frightened of the gang at her back. In her new school, she meets the mysterious, always calm heiress Ashe, and feels an unexplainable connection with her. As their feelings grow, pasts and scars are uncovered, problems discovered... YURI
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Greetings, people of the world, welcome to my humble story. A little heads up for those of you unfamiliar with me and/or the term "Yuri"; this is a **_**lesbian**_** story like all my other works. If you are against it, please leave, or you can continue reading and make yourself upset. For those of you who are not, especially those readers who have graciously stuck by my side for such a long time, this story is for you, and I hope you will enjoy it.**

**BTW, this is an Alternate Universe (AU) story, so it doesn't take place in Runeterra. Katarina will more or less be in her usual outfit most of the time; while Ashe will have it reduced to the dress, cowl and boots (a cape and armored gauntlets would be weird on a schoolgirl).**

**Haruka**

**Katarina's POV**

The wind rakes through my hair as I speed through the streets to my new school, scoffing at the bright red "School Zone, lower speed now" sign as I rev the engine on purpose, hitting a lofty 120 when the speed limit is 40. They will not bother arresting me for speeding any longer, juvy's pretty tired of seeing my face, and they loathe having to be on guard whenever I am incarcerated in case my gang comes around and tries to break me out. Giving me tickets doesn't make them feel any better either, as the money I pay them with is "dirty", stolen or obtained through illegal dealings.

The gang is feared all over the country, rumored to have connections absolutely everywhere, even with members of Parliament (yep, it is true), and infamous for their ruthless, cold-blooded treatment of their enemies; even the cops do not dare to cross them. Hence, they keep my sentences short, a couple months a pop, and never dare to touch even one hair on my head. Without the gang behind me, I would probably have gotten life imprisonment for all the crimes I have committed, instead of a few stints at juvy. How fortunate I am, to have been born into the Du Couteau Clan!

Slamming the brakes, I slide into the school parking lot with a loud screech, the motorcycle's wheels leaving dark skid marks in the ground. The school's principal glares at me with icy disapproval from her perch on the school porch, obviously unhappy that it is her school's turn to endure me, but she keeps herself calm and approaches me with one eyebrow raised.

"Miss Katarina Du Couteau, we have been expecting you," she does not bother to rebuke me for the skid marks that now mar the school parking lot, or for driving recklessly, or for driving at all at the age of sixteen, or for wearing a crop top when the school rules clearly state they are not allowed, or for reporting to school late, it seems that my social worker has told her how useless that is, "Now, please hand over all your visible weapons and step through the metal detector so we can ascertain you are completely unarmed within the school compound."

Ugh, this is the sixth time a new school has done this to me; I guess they grew wary after I gutted half of a school's "tough" guys two or so years back for annoying me and got them sent to the ICU and / or killed. Fortunately, I have grown smarter and have a little trick up my sleeve, turning to face the principal with a mock sigh, "Aww, I guess I have no choice but to give up now." I remove a knife from my belt and toss it to her, making her yelp and scamper away as the blade clangs at her feet; the fool, if I had wanted to hurt her, I would have before she could even react.

"That's dangerous!" she snaps, obviously flustered, and I grin like a cat who has cornered her helpless prey, replying lightly while tossing another knife into the air, "I'm sorry, I thought you would be able to catch. It's easy, see?" The blade falls back down with the edge pointed straight at me, and the principal lets out a frightened gasp as I easily catch it between two fingers, tossing it up yet again almost immediately.

I catch it with practiced ease and toss it to her, a smirk clear on my face, and she backs up so it clatters at her feet once more. Removing the three belts that keep various blades holstered to my thighs and waist, I chuck them to her as well, watching them clang onto the asphalt; fortunately, these blades are much too strong to be scratched by rough treatment. Picking them up, the principal examines the intricate engravings on them and pales, knowing that she will have to return these to me after school or face the wrath of Noxus, my gang. These knives are the Du Couteau Clan's heirlooms, passed from leader to leader, and are in surprisingly good condition for blades that have been working for so long. I am not yet the leader of Noxus, though; Father passed these blades to me early, seeing that I like knives much more than any other weapon.

Even though there is not a single stain on any of those knives, the principal seems aware of the fact that they have spilled much more blood than she can imagine, she is holding them very gingerly and attempts not to look at them. Trying to reassert her authority, the principal warns, "Keep that up, Miss Du Couteau, and you've got yourself detention on day one."

I shrug in response, unaffected by the threat, "I've got nothing else to do, anyway. Besides robbing a bank, gutting some dudes who think they're tough shit and speeding near a kindergarten crossing, hoping to run over some little children." She pales even further at that, wordlessly gathers my blades and returns to her office in the school compound, leaving who I assume to be the school administrator to take care of me.

"Well, uhm, Miss Du Couteau," the administrator scratches his head, the stench of fear emanating clearly from him as he fidgets under my calculating gaze, absolutely terrified now that he is left alone with me. "You'll be in, uhm, Class 2-1, which is the first class down that corridor over there. Your timetable is, uhm… here you go," he hands me a color-coded piece of paper and shrinks back the instant my hand touches it, as if I am some sort of dangerous animal, "Please adhere to it, and I, uhm, hope you will be able to, uhm, change your ways here."

He allows me to bypass the metal detector, foolishly assuming that a trained assassin such as myself would so easily surrender her weapons; I still have a few blades on the inside of my long pants and a relatively long, uncomfortably shaped knife in my cleavage. They will find out that I am armed if the school's "tough" guy pisses me off badly enough while trying to give me the new kid treatment to prove that he is not afraid of anyone, even a girl with a history like mine: more than fifty confirmed deaths to my name, hundreds of counts of causing grievous hurt, twelve or so stints in juvenile detention (good old juvy), thousands of speeding tickets, driving underage, assaulting police officers, robbing banks, heading smuggling operations… the charges carry on. However, in comparison to what my dear father did by the time he was my age, this is nothing.

On my way to Class 2-1, I easily dodge a purposefully stuck out leg and glare daggers at the smirking boy whom the leg belongs to (for now), my emerald eyes practically saying _come on, bastard, make my f**king day_. He has long dark hair falling over his eyes, is rather burly, boasts a dragon tattoo on his upper right arm and has a little posse behind him; it seems that I have found the school's resident tough guy. He speaks cockily, obviously thinking himself quite the badass, "What class you in, new kid?"

"2-1," I respond evenly, not in the least intimidated, and he sneers immediately that it is the nerd's class, and that 2-7 is the class where all the cool kids go. Apparently, due to the scar over my eye (which came from a nearly failed mission when I was a kid), he thought I would be relatively tough, but it turns out that he was wrong and I probably got it from some Physics experiment gone wrong or something. He continues speaking, but I do not bother to pay him any more attention. _Hmm, they put me in the best class? I guess they hope I will be influenced by some of the goody-two-shoes in it, "mend my ways" and all that shit, since it won't be worth it if they kill me._

"Hey, new kid, I'm talking to you!" he throws a punch which I easily dodge, but I choose not to retaliate for now, instead folding my arms and tapping my foot in a show of boredom, eyes now obviously taunting _is that all you've got?_ It gets on his nerves, as expected, the "tough guys" in schools are not used to being challenged, feared by the entire student body as they are, and it really aggravates them. "Think you're big shit, huh, coming in late on the first day? Don't kid yourself, I'm the king here, and you'd better watch your step if you wanna live, new kid."

"It's Katarina," I respond calmly, "Katarina Du Couteau." The mere mention of my surname makes the members of his posse pale and back away, whispering uneasily among each other. The tough guy remains undaunted, however, proudly announcing that he, Gawain Sanders, is not afraid of "no redheaded French girl". (He must not be very good at French, he would understand that _Du Couteau_ means _knife_ otherwise). One of the boys behind him whispers urgently in his ear, making him pale a little, but this Gawain kid still wants to stand his ground despite being informed of who I am.

"If your little gang didn't back you up, new kid, I bet you'd be nothing," he sneers, and I simply welcome him to try me, one on one, no weapons involved. In fact, he can use weapons or get his lackeys to assist him if he wants, I will take the disadvantage as I am way beyond his league and am graciously giving him a chance. That makes him see red, and he charges wildly at me with a barbaric roar of "You b*tch!"

Rolling my eyes, I sidestep him effortlessly and grab his arm as he passes, easily flipping him and sending him crashing to the ground face first. I twist his arm behind him until I hear the satisfying pop as it dislocates, smirking as he cries out in pain and begins to tear up. Struggling and bellowing like an ox, he attempts to escape my hold, and I swiftly kick the back of his knee to send him crumpling to the ground yet again. He yelps as I apply more pressure against his knee, trembling like a wounded puppy, and I taunt him, "My, my, is that fear I smell?"

He screams in rage and attempts to lash out with his remaining arm, allowing me to easily grab and dislocate it as well. I deliver a powerful kick to the base of his spine, releasing his arms simultaneously, and send him flying to the opposite wall. He strikes it forcefully and slides down with a groan, barely conscious; I walk toward his pathetic form and snarl, "Know your place, bastard. I am called The Sinister Blade for a reason." I kick him in the face to finish things off, a flush of satisfaction running through me when I see that I have drawn blood. He yelps loudly in response, and I turn around upon hearing a loud gasp to see a young-looking female teacher staring at me with wide eyes.

"Miss Du Couteau, we were wondering where you had gone," the principal is here as well, I see, "We'll be seeing you in detention today, no excuses." I shrug, not at all concerned, and obediently follow the shocked teacher as instructed; it turns out that she is the head of Class 2-1 and hence, the teacher in charge of me. I bet she hates her job right now…

As with any other school, my classmates prefer to pretend I do not exist, which works perfectly well for me as I always sleep the boring lessons away in a seat all by myself at the back of the class. No one wants me disrupting classes or hurting students, hence, I am kept out of the way; and they hope I will be positively influenced by these good students when I am not within an arm's length of any of them. Seriously, why not just put me in solitary confinement for a few days? I can use the ceiling for target practice again; it is more productive than sleeping my days away in a corner.

Well, the authorities probably think they have a chance in converting me to the good side, since I do not stick with the gang most of the time and am willing to attend school; they assume that if I were serious about taking over Noxus when time comes, I would not let myself get caught nor waste time in educational institutions. Unfortunately, they are quite far from the truth, for I have every intention of taking over my father once he passes away or deems me fit to do so. I allow myself to get caught because the kids in juvy know many things about the underworld that I may not, allowing me to gather information from them, and I attend school because it was my father's wish that his children receive schooling until the time has come for them to officially join Noxus full-time. Father has been missing and presumed dead for years, most of the gang feel that I should take over as leader and abandon schooling now, but I firmly believe that he is still alive and hence, the rightful leader, and will not be taking his position until his death has been confirmed.

"Miss Du Couteau, I would appreciate if you paid attention in class," I snap out from my thoughts to realize it is History right now, and the elderly male teacher, who is more or less bald, raps at the whiteboard in a futile attempt to assert his authority over me. The mere mention of my surname makes most of my classmates flinch and gasp, fidgeting nervously in their seats and throwing occasional, wary glances my way. At the corner of my eye, I notice a girl dressed in a low-cut, short black dress (if it could be called that) patterned with gold, what seems like white bandages wrapped tightly around her midriff, and she has a black cowl similarly decorated with gold drawn up over her head. What made her stand out among the others is the ice-blue bow leaning gently against her desk; it seems that she is in the Archery Club. How interesting, I never thought nerds could do sports.

"I would appreciate if you shut up, old man," I had responded while I was gazing at the girl, wondering what she looks like and why she feels the need to wear a goddamn cowl indoors. Some of the nerds actually snicker at my response, much to my amazement, and the old man sputters angrily, informing me that he is my teacher and I am obliged to respect him due to his position.

"Old man, where I come from, respect has to be _earned_," I respond lazily, admiring the sharpened edge of my metal ruler in a silent, unspoken challenge.

As expected, he does not take it up, instead backing off and allowing me to do as I please, muttering under his breath about "teenagers these days". A number of my classmates are staring now, noticing the long scar over my eye for the first time and muttering to one another about it with the characteristic curiosity of their kind. The girl in the cowl is one of the few who remain unmoved, ignoring the attempts of her seatmate to engage her in conversation, all attention on the balding old man who is talking about Adolf Hitler and the Holocaust.

I fall asleep for the rest of History, sleeping through Biology and Physics as well, and only awake when the class is dismissed for lunch, flinging the window next to my seat open while the other kids take the boring door. The Physics teacher, Miss Hiebert, panics and yelps pointlessly just before I jump, "Wait, we're on the second floor-!" To her surprise, I land safely and silently like a cat instead of breaking a bone or two as she had expected.

Soundlessly, I make my way to the back garden where I can slack about undisturbed for the duration of lunch, maybe even skip a few classes, toss rocks at little animals and whatever other things delinquents do in their free time. I am delighted to find an assortment of trees with thick, sturdy branches awaiting me in the garden, and I immediately pick one of the taller trees to climb, settling myself on the highest branch I can safely reach. A small black cat meows at me from the neighboring tree, amber eyes gleaming with suspicion, and I make a loud noise to send it packing with a disgruntled meow.

"_Hey, Kat, what do you think cats do in their free time?" _A strangely familiar female voice I have never heard in my life suddenly echoes in my head, bringing with it a brief flash of a similar-looking small black cat, someone's alabaster, tapering fingers gently tickling it under the chin as it narrows brilliant amber eyes in delight. My own voice responds, filled with uncharacteristic warmth, _"Plot world domination, I swear."_

She laughs in response, still tickling the cat, _"You know, that actually seems likely."_

"_I bet Nidalee's working with them, and she being here is part of some scheme to make felines the superior species." _She laughs, calling my nickname in a mock-rebuking manner, filling my chest with warm, liquid honey. As suddenly as it came, the voice disappears, leaving a strange hollow feeling where the warmth had been.

Those whom I allow to call me Kat are either dead or missing, and this girl is definitely not either of them. Who on earth is she…? Why does it feel as if she is someone extremely important to me, perhaps more so than my sister and father, when I cannot even recall her…?

A single tear trickles down my cheek, my heart aching, pining for the owner of that sweet, familiar yet unknown voice. _Where have you gone? I miss you so much…_ "Don't go soft on me, Du Couteau," I snarl at myself, wiping the accursed tear away and tensing every single muscle discreetly, all senses on alert as I sense an approaching presence.

"Miss Du Couteau, I believe you should be in… English Literature class right now?" it is the principal, and she is wearing a very displeased look on her bespectacled face. Shrugging, I leap to the nearest tree and make my way to the tree right outside my classroom, kicking the window open and swinging in with ease. The students and teacher gasp in shock at my sudden entrance, and I shout out the window to the principal, "Happy now?"

She nods quickly and motions for me to close the window, her eyes clearly warning me to _stay in class and behave_. I am not at all intimidated, returning to my seat and leaning back casually, putting my feet up on the desk and daring the teacher with my eyes to rebuke me, to acknowledge my behavior in any way.

As expected, she does not.

**-After Class-**

My "appalling" behavior has resulted in me being awarded three hours' detention in a private seat in the school's general office, just outside the door to the principal's, and I am to "reflect on the severity of my actions" for the entire duration. Bored out of my wits, I am carving lines into the already well-vandalized desk, carefully etching the symbol of Noxus into the green plastic. The secretary, who is filing papers at the huge wooden desk by the office's entrance, glares at me disapprovingly, but is much too saturated with work to spare more than an occasional glance.

The girl in the black dress enters the room an hour and a half into my sentence, bow slung casually over her shoulder, the cowl still drawn up over her head. Quietly, she settles in an empty chair next to the secretary and begins aiding her in the sorting of papers, making the flustered woman direct her a grateful glance while murmuring heartfelt thanks. Now that she is facing me, I am able to see the mysterious girl's face; she has elegant, virtually flawless features and skin like alabaster, and her almond-shaped eyes are the same ice blue as her bow. What strikes me most about her appearance is her long hair, a brilliant white the color of fresh snow, of blank paper, of _purity_. She carries herself with an air of nobility, her features carefully kept blank, and I assume that she comes from one of those stick-up-the-ass old, traditional families that still engage their offspring to others' before they are even born. How intriguing, for some strange reason, I desire to get to know this girl…

As the clock ticks on agonizingly slowly, about to kill me with boredom, that familiar female voice from before suddenly echoes in my head once more, now filled with a mixture of awe, joy and warmth, _"I can't believe you got two pentakills in one game, Kat, a celebration is in order."_

My voice responds, filled with affection, as if I were talking to my lover, _"Are you trying to say that I'm too weak to get pentakills, sweetie?"_

"_Maybe. After all, Malzahar helped by feeding you," _comes the teasing response, I can practically see the smirk on the mysterious girl's face as my voice warns her of an incoming attack, resulting in a harmonious mixture of laughter.

As suddenly as they struck me, the voices fade once more, leaving me with a mind-numbing ache in my chest, one that seems to be twisting my heart in knots, one that demands I find that girl as soon as possible. I wonder, am I going crazy or something, hearing a voice in my head that belongs to someone I do not know? _Pull yourself together, Du Couteau. The heiress to Noxus cannot fall so easily to emotion._

**A/N: Should I continue?**

**Haruka**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm glad to see some people are interested in the story! By the way, if you were wondering, I'm a total noob at League who can only use ranged champions as she is much too afraid to dive in and YOLO like an Akali or LeBlanc, who are ridiculously overpowered with their retarded burst damage. I am practicing support and mid, because I like midlaners and being a support, though worrying at times, is rather fun. At the time of writing, my summoner level is 10, which tells you how green I am as I'm still playing AI.**

**To StattStatt, as always, I am delighted to hear from you! That "Who needs a map?" fellow is Ezreal, by the way, a very annoying ADC (Attack Damage Carry) with an Ultimate that can snipe enemies across the map, one of my brother's favorite champions (He plays mainly mid / ADC , and when he plays Akali, he's too Akali to die). About not making you cry soon… I'm not so sure about that…**

**To GoG Toxic, I didn't want to write a non-AU as the lores are pretty in-depth so it gives me less room to maneuver (I mean, Ashe is Queen of Freljord and Katarina's a Noxian "noble", it's pretty much impossible for them to have any happy ending in Runeterra), and I don't want to play with the lores because I love them. If you don't mind the pairing Lux x Riven, I am hoping to create a non-AU fic for them... The 'flashback/forward/across dimension thing' has its place in the story, and I hope when it all unfolds, you will not be disappointed.**

**To remvis, please enjoy this chapter, and thank you for the encouragement!**

**To Truna, IKR Kat and Ashe are just meant to be together! Screw Tryndamere, that ugly barbarian doesn't deserve Ashe! Thanks for the encouragement and compliment, I will try my best to make this a story you will enjoy!**

**To Trinity, isn't Katarina always amazing and badass? If you feed her, she can make a pentakill by herself! (No kidding, I've witnessed that happen. Swain fed her so much, she had more than half the enemy team's kills (like 20), and all five members of my brother's team jumped her. She killed all five of them but got low enough for Vayne's Ignite to take her down with them.)**

**To Pikachux3, I'm glad that you liked this story! I hope that this chapter will be satisfactory!**

**To BluberryJam, I hope this chapter meets you expectations!**

**Haruka**

**Katarina's POV**

My motorcycle skids with a loud screech into the school parking lot yet again, making the students in the immediate area flinch and cringe, but they are much too frightened of me to even direct a dirty glare in my general direction. The principal sighs and makes no comment about my grand entrance, probably aware that she should be grateful for the fact that I have bothered come to school on time, and allows me to bypass the metal detector simply because I carry no visible weaponry on my person. Civilians, they are much too gullible for their own good, it is no wonder Noxus can carry out multiple illegal activities right under their noses. What self-respecting assassin would give up so quickly, so easily?

Slipping into the crowd, I easily arrive at the entrance to Class 2-7, seeking a delinquent to interrogate about the white haired girl in my class. Sure, these punks are academically challenged and surprisingly unintelligent at times, but if you are seeking private information about others, these kids usually know more than the school's gossip queen. Another plus is that their information is accurate 95% of the time, whereas the same cannot be said for gossip, which might have started out as the truth but ended up mutated into a horrible lie somewhere along the way. Why would delinquents bother to know so much about others, one might wonder? Well, harassing a person with _connections_ will be quite an unpleasant experience, so knowing who to steer away from is one of the reasons. Another is that there are a number of rich, weak kids one could easily make much money off without trouble, so knowing who they are and monopolizing them before the others works to one's benefit.

That Gawain bastard from before has not arrived yet, but I recognize among the group of boys present in the classroom a few members of his posse, and I decide to take one of them to interrogate. I dart in and grab the nearest one, pulling him into a darker, quieter part of the hallway and pinning him against the wall before he can react. The moment his tiny, delinquent brain can process what has occurred, he protests, struggling feebly, "What the shit do you think you're doing, punk? Oh f**k…" Recognition flickers in his dark eyes, and he begins apologizing repeatedly while trembling like a goddamn cornered puppy, begging me not to hurt him or call Noxus on him.

"Look, bastard, if you want to live, I just need you to answer some questions," I hiss into the boy's ear, and he nods silently to show his understanding and consent, "What do you know about the white haired girl in 2-1? I want _everything_, down to her favorite underwear color."

Confusion flickers across the punk's features as he begins to think, you can practically hear the rusty gears turning in his barely used head, "Ah! You must be talking about Lady Ashe!" I furrow my eyebrows immediately, to have a _delinquent,_ known for being disrespectful and downright unpleasant, call you _Lady_ without sarcasm, that is no easy feat; who exactly is this girl and why does she have the respect of punks?

After a brief pause due to the slow processing speed of his brain, the boy speaks, "Her full name is Ashe Avarosa Freljord, she is the heiress to the prestigious Freljord family, and her parents have unofficially engaged her to Tryndamere Gelid, heir to another stick-up-the-ass old family, since the day she was born. He has anger management issues, though, and has treated her rather cruelly, beating her up and shit. Her parents illegally chose her genes before she was born to give her white hair, though she has never shown any resentment for being designed like that. Uhm, personality-wise she is calm and collected, always polite and never shows any emotions, she's your perfect ice princess, and she practically _commands_ respect. She's in the Archery Club and has been shooting since she could hold a bow, which is like… four or something. Some people say she can hit five birds with one arrow, and they call her the Frost Archer, for obvious reasons. And, uhm, her favorite underwear color… I don't know, man, sorry. We may be punks, but we've got too much respect for Lady Ashe to infringe her privacy to that extent. That heiress, she doesn't let anything get on her nerves, and she treats everyone the same, unlike the stereotypical spoiled princess type."

"I was kidding about that last part," I growl, carefully archiving the information I have received about the white haired girl, Ashe. Her name sounds almost painfully familiar, as does her surname, Freljord; they bring to my mind images of a pale, cold hand in my own and of an unforgiving, merciless ice-swept tundra respectively. The name Tryndamere makes me think of an armored barbarian dragging behind him a monstrous sword, though I am not sure why, and I dislike him instantly. Somewhere deep inside me, something screams at me to find this Tryndamere Gelid fellow and behead him, claim his blood for the glory of Noxus. Releasing the boy, I shove him into the wall hard enough to leave him a bruise before heading on my way, the Freljord heiress' name echoing repeatedly in my head.

_Ashe Avarosa Freljord… Ashe Avarosa Freljord… Queen Ashe of Freljord, descendant of Avarosa… _What in the world…? Shaking my head internally to clear it of strange thoughts, I head to class and slump myself in my seat, watching the nerds around me studying quietly by themselves as they await the goddamn bell's dooming verdict. The Freljord heiress is among them, the cowl still drawn up over her head, alabaster hands resting gently upon the sides of an open book. Her ice blue bow lies elegantly by her side, shimmering as if it were really made of ice, the intricate designs upon it glinting with every change of lighting caused by the waving leaves outside the window.

The delinquents in this school actually harbor respect for someone who isn't one of them, that is rather surprising. I wonder why, is it because she is an heiress perfectly capable of defending herself (you'd expect rich girls to be b*tchy damsels in distress), an heiress who does not act as if she were Queen of the goddamn world?

The shrill ringing of the bell drags me from my thoughts, signaling the start of the dreaded school day. The first period is Mathematics, and the fifty-question assignment given to us yesterday is due to be collected. Around me, the nerds obediently hand up their unbelievably thick stacks of work, some of it rather messily scrawled by the final page and most of it half-heartedly completed. Flipping through the stacks as she traverses down the rows, the sadistic Mathematics teacher announces loudly, "All of you should take a lesson from Ashe, her work is perfectly and neatly done from start to finish, and you can practically see the effort she put into it, unlike all you guys' half-hearted attempts." She raises the stack in the air and flips through the pages for the class to see for themselves; each page is printed in a neat hand that does not falter even to the very end.

The Freljord heiress receives the damn b*tch's praise with a minute nod of the head, every feature perfectly neutral as if the teacher's praise meant absolutely nothing to her. Some of the nerds are muttering grumpily about how she must have no life at all if she has the time to dedicate herself to such pointless work, and to my surprise, the Freljord heiress does not even bother to acknowledge these mumblings. If I were her, I would have pounded them into the ground for such an insult; but then, if I were her, I would have never done any of that work in the first place.

"Miss Du Couteau, where is your homework?" the teacher has arrived at the very back of the classroom and stands before my desk, one hand expectantly outstretched. I choose to spit contemptuously into it, making her withdraw in disgust and rebuke me in an unpleasant, shrill voice, "You are in our school and we expect you to follow our rules, which includes respecting your teachers and handing up assignments punctually!"

"As that bald old dude learned, so will you. My respect has to be _earned_," I respond casually, leaning back against the chair and propping my feet on the desk, "And I had a far more… _important_ assignment to attend to yesterday." Grinning threateningly, I ask the nervous-looking teacher, emerald eyes boring into her frightened brown, "Did you read the papers this morning?"

She gulps and nods, backing away like a frightened rabbit taking steps toward her warren, her voice cracking as she asks, "Y-you were part of that team…?" Her body is trembling with fear, her skin having paled to an unhealthy fish belly white and her knees starting to fold beneath her. My classmates all turn to stare at me with wide eyes, scared shitless, save for the Freljord heiress who keeps her eyes on the book in her hands, unaffected and unbothered. Stammering, the teacher continues, "Y-you… you r-robbed the… the National Bank and… and k-killed seven p-police officers?"

Shrugging, I respond casually, taking the sharpened metal ruler from my pocket and examining its edge lazily, "I thought we took out a full dozen of 'em. It seems like I have to pay some visits to the hospital later." _Maybe I'll send some of the boys instead; Talon hasn't seen much blood on his blades lately. Though, killing incapacitated police officers lulled to sleep by a mixture of drugs and a false sense of security will not be any fun, and he might not be too satisfied by it. Oh well, at least he's still getting to spill blood for Noxus._

"What for?" the teacher chokes out; evidently terrified of hearing the answer she expects I will give. Her eyes are filled with a mixture of fear and anger; it seems that she harbors no liking for "gangsters" such as me and the other members of Noxus. Maybe we've harmed one of her loved ones before, or killed a couple of them, Noxus has spilled so much blood that we cannot even hope to keep track of who it belongs to, let alone who shares it.

I raise an eyebrow and reply, tossing the ruler up toward the ceiling where it digs itself into the plaster and sticks fast, "What do you expect? I'm bringing them f**king flowers and fruit baskets." The message gets across clearly, evident from the pale and waxy look of her skin as she begins to perspire uncomfortably, and she gulps audibly while taking a few steps away from me.

For the rest of the lesson, she does not bother me, and I doubt she ever will again. Now that she, the shy English Literature teacher and that old fart who teaches History have chosen to give up and roll over like frightened puppies, I only have five more teachers to scare before playing hooky and attending class becomes basically the same thing. _There are Physics, Chemistry, Biology, English and French left. Soon enough, they'll be begging to have me transferred out anywhere, as long as I'm not here._

I wonder… will I be able to break my record for the shortest time spent at a single educational institution this time? At the moment it is six days, obtained by gutting half the school's delinquents on day one (a number of them died from their injuries) and knifing the school cat when it bothered me the next day. The police really wanted to slap me around the wrist there and have me locked up for life or hanged, but a large number of armed members of Noxus made some… _convincing_ appearances in crowded public places, around police stations, police officers' homes and near their family members, allowing me to escape with a three month stint at good old juvy. I do not mind if the authorities kill me as I have already named a backup successor who will lead Noxus in my place if necessary, and if they do kill me, they'll be unleashing a wave of terror upon the world as Noxus will definitely claim millions of lives in the name of vengeance. The trade-off is simply not worth it, one life for millions. The poor cops, they're as helpless and harmless as goddamn rabbits.

When lunch swings around, I head to the same tree I was on yesterday, the black cat from before hissing angrily before fleeing at the mere sight of me, I guess _somebody_ holds grudges. Leaning back against the old tree's broad trunk, gazing up at the patches of sky shining through the leaves, I find myself wishing for that voice I heard yesterday to come back just so that I can feel that warmth in my hollow chest again, so that I can bask in the buttery light of those memories again.

_What the shit is wrong with you, Du Couteau? When were you such a f**king pansy, pining for some warm, fluttery feeling like a weak, empty-headed __**girl**__? You are stronger than that; you have to be stronger than that! You're the f**king heiress to Noxus, you can't show any weakness!_

_Dammit, I'm in the mood to kick a puppy or something… Do they have a supply of small animals around here, maybe a pet shop or an animal shelter, anything along those lines? Hmm, maybe I could find that goddamn cat, one of them punks from 2-7 isn't bad either… Or I could pick on Darius again; blackmail him for watching My Little Pony in his free time and sleeping with some blue pony plush toy which he calls "Rainbow Dash" or something... What should I get from him this time? I have enough money thanks to my cut from yesterday's heist, so I guess I'll get him to act as my punching bag?_

Grinning wickedly, I pull out my phone from my pocket and send a text to good old Dar-Dar, cracking my knuckles in anticipation…

**-After Class-**

Instead of receiving yet another detention for my "absolutely atrocious and appalling" behavior, the principal has decided that I am to be assigned a "buddy" who will watch over me, tutor me and attempt to sway me to the good side. The moment she announces this, the teacher in charge of Class 2-1 pales and informs her that every student is pretty much terrified of me, and not a single one of them will agree to be my "buddy" (she said the word as if it were cancer or something). If they are forced into it, they are likely to complain to their parents, and the school might be in some trouble. Hence, this rather risky plot cannot possibly work out.

Smiling mysteriously, the principal replies that there is one person who is not afraid of me, and in fact, this person has already agreed to lend the school and county a helping hand in "taming the beast". The teacher-in-charge looks dumbstruck, unable to believe that there is a nerd brave enough (or stupid enough) to agree to such a life-threatening plan.

"Are you sure this person is a nerd? Whoever it is just made the most stupid decision of their life," I comment in a bored tone, looking up from the plastic desk in which I have gouged the symbol of Noxus clear through the tabletop with a pen. The principal directs me a disapproving glance and signals to the door, politely requesting this mysterious, gutsy idiot to enter the room. The door obediently swings open, and a familiar figure glides elegantly through it, nearly making my heart stop in my chest.

It is _her_.

Ashe Avarosa Freljord.

Figures. How damn cliché, the very girl whom I am mildly interested in turns out to be the one attempting to "convert" me to the side that obeys the goddamn law. Will this turn into one of those romance novels I used to mock Cassiopeia for reading, the ones that have the main female meet some hunky dude who changes her entire life (just that this time, the hunky dude turns out to be a petite and beautiful girl)?

The mere thought of my younger sister makes my heart clench in my chest, and I quickly steer my thoughts to some less painful territory, regarding the ice princess with cool eyes as she approaches me with calm, steady steps, no emotions flickering over her flawless features and ice blue eyes. Her bow is slung over her shoulder, a quiver bristling with arrows hanging right next to it, but her presence is not at all threatening. The weapons are simply there to tell the world, _I have the ability to protect myself, don't think for a moment that I'll go down without a fight. _How intriguing…

"Ashe needs experience in dealing with all kinds of people for her future," the principal explains, "Hence, her family is willing to take the risk of having her watch over you, Miss Du Couteau. However, it will be appreciated if you not harm her." The teacher-in-charge is giving both of them a _what the f**k are you thinking are you f**king crazy _look, her entire body trembling and she looks as if she has just seen a goddamn ghost. Neither of them pays her any attention, the Freljord heiress' calm and serene exterior remaining perfectly unaffected by the nervous tension about her.

I shrug noncommittally in response, my eyes drifting over to the strangely familiar Freljord heiress, who has her cowl up as usual, "No promises." Before the principal can say anything, I add, "The Frost Archer should be able to take care of herself, anyway."

"Against the Sinister Blade, we are not so sure," the teacher-in-charge responds, her gaze filled with worry and uncertainty and suspicion. Turning to the principal, she says, "M'am, we really should think this through-"

The heiress raises a hand in a gesture for her to stop talking, and the teacher shuts up immediately like some obedient puppy. Looking straight at me, those startlingly clear ice blue eyes fixed upon my emerald green, she says softly, calmly, "I have made my decision, and I hope you will cooperate with me, Sinister Blade." I recognize her voice instantly, it is that of the girl whom my heart wants me to seek, the girl whom in my… memories?… teased me like a lover.

"Where would the fun be if I did, Frost Archer?" I reply with a smirk, a little shiver of excitement running through me when the Freljord heiress does not back down in the slightest, not at all intimidated by what many would take as a threat coming from me. This is going to be very interesting; I wonder which one of us will give way first…

**A/N: Should I continue?**

**Haruka**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Greetings, League players of the world! This story is nearly always on my mind as I play League pretty much every damn day, though I still suck at it T.T I went for a normal game upon receiving Flash (Level 12), and was decimated by a Level 30, full-rune Kha'Zix at mid. It made me turn and run back to AI with the other noobs.**

**By the way, though I have been updating this story fairly regularly lately, I cannot assure you this speed will continue. When school swings around... you'll probably have to wait months. And when writer's block claims me... yeah, you get it, right?**

**Oh, in case anyone was wondering, I got the idea of Darius being a MLP fan from a fanmade comic strip I found randomly of him making a pentakill and rushing to win the game just because he didn't want to miss the show XD**

**To Truna, I would love to add you, but I think we're in different servers. You're on NA, I'm on SEA. I like Caitlyn x Vi and Ahri x Sona too~ But Lux x Riven is my priority for the next story, because I love playing Lux and I had a good game with a Riven that spurred me on. I used Light Binding and we whaled on the enemy for the 2 seconds he was trapped, Riven used Ki Burst when the snare wore off and one of us secured the kill XD**

**To remvis, I'm glad you feel that way! This story has most of my attention for now, so it should be updated pretty regularly (until school comes around).**

**To StattStatt, great to hear from you! I kind of created personalities for each character based on the things they say when they walk around, their taunts, jokes and stuff like that. Kat has one that goes "If you run, you won't see me stab you" or something like that, so, you know.**

**To Pikachux3, I'm glad you feel I did Kat well; I don't want to disappoint the Sinister Blade or her fans.**

**To BluberryJam, I am delighted to have met your expectations and hope this will as well!**

**To gnurd, I'm glad you feel that way. I was terrified of being stinking bad like a feeder in ranked. At least I know I'm average :D**

**To termnh, you must be pretty well ranked. Do you have any tips for laning against a Fizz besides the usual "deny him farm", "bait his Playful/Trickster before committing" and "apply lots of CC"?**

**To Stormy Cloudz, you should play! It's free anyway. Kayle and Morgana, huh? I play Morgana as a support, but I haven't tried Kayle. What do you mean by what I think of them? Do you mean lore-wise or game-wise? I like Morg, but I prefer Lux over her any day though her spell shield is better than Lux's Prismatic Barrier under most circumstances (unless you're tanking turret).**

**To AyahDiamon, I love **_**Wounded**_** too, it's the whole reason I started shipping Kat x Ashe :) I know this AU is incomparable to **_**Wounded**_**, but I do hope it can at least be half as good!**

**Haruka**

**Katarina's POV**

The Freljord heiress is supposed to come over to my place this very day and ensure I get my homework done, without any regard for the plans I may have (beating up Dar-Dar) for my evening. Fortunately, I am free from _work_ until Saturday, where I will be knocking on doors and heads to demand for the money some gangs borrowed from Noxus a few months back, so I will not have to try find a way to ditch her. After the bank robbery, I have instructed my gang members to lay low and keep out of sight for a while until the whole thing cools off, for the cops are definitely going to be on their guard for a week or so and doing anything attention-grabbing during this period is basically asking for it. Hence, I simply have to get Dar-Dar to reschedule our little… _appointment_, maybe to tonight if this study date or whatever goes badly.

I swing onto my beloved motorcycle, a sleek black and silver bike from the Ecosse FE Ti XX-Titanium Series, and stare at the Freljord heiress expectantly as she remains unmoved on the sidewalk, one eyebrow raised skeptically. "Aren't you too young to drive?" she asks softly, a flicker of hesitation illuminating ice blue orbs momentarily. I shrug and gesture for her to get on, expecting a _you're crazy if you think I'm going to sign my own death warrant_ look. I highly doubt she will be willing to get on the motorcycle with me; I'll probably have to call a cab for her or something. Surprisingly, she simply sighs almost inaudibly and climbs on the bike behind me, unsure where to put her hands as I rev the engine aggressively.

"Hold on tight, sweetie, you're in for one hell of a ride," I smirk over my shoulder at her, and she obediently wraps her arms around my waist just as the motorcycle lurches forward in a burst of speed, accelerating rapidly until I hit a steady 120km/h, darting in and out of traffic recklessly in an optimum display of the "YOLO" attitude. I have to give the Freljord heiress credit, she remains unflinching and calm despite the speed, sharp turns and countless near-death experiences of this journey; we brush by the bumper of a lorry when I rush a red light, narrowly miss a tree when I made a sharp right turn at a 100km/h, speed straight toward a truck and narrowly escape to its left at the last moment… There are still many more exhilarating occurrences that would have made even the bravest of my men whimper, but she remains impressively stoic through them all. The only evidence of her fear is the way her arms subconsciously tighten around my waist and her body practically glues itself to my back, trembling ever-so-slightly.

"Want me to slow down?" I yell teasingly over the whipping of the wind; the Freljord heiress refuses to back down or show her fear, shaking her head minutely to convey the message _I'm fine_. I am able to feel it easily as her head is buried in my shoulder, wildly flowing strands of her snow white hair tickling my neck. Not going to let her off with such a lousy lie, I taunt, "Oh yeah? Then why are you trembling?"

She refuses to respond to that, instead burying her face further into the bare skin of my neck and forcing her body to still. I flinch suddenly, the motorcycle lurching sideways dangerously, as the sudden feeling of her warmth breath brushing against my neck sends strange little lightning bolts through my body and makes my heart skip a few beats; it is as if my brain just short-circuited for a moment there. This time, she makes a soft yelp as the bike nearly topples over, I quickly right it while lowering our speed slightly, rebuking, "Don't blow on my neck, Frost Archer, you just might kill us."

She apologizes immediately, burying her face in my back instead, as the "good" streets fly past us, giving way to the shady part of town filled with shops that sell "adult toys", drugs and alcohol, cheap one-night love hotels, bars whose doors are only open after dark and a few crumbling, dirty apartment blocks. With all the money Noxus has, it is surprising that I live in such a shithole, but I like being surrounded by other criminals who do not mind a little skirmish (no cops involved) once in a while. And when I get sick of this festering cesspool, I can always head back up country to the Du Couteau Clan's mansion, the one bought by legal money when Noxus was still half upright company and half underground society, somewhere in the 1900s. The cops do not bother watching it any more, none of the Du Couteaus live there and they rarely return to it, so it is a waste of manpower. The mansion is but a huge house occupied by the help these days, especially since father disappeared…

The motorcycle screeches to a halt, the acrid scent of overheated rubber filling the air, in a small parking lot with weeds growing through the cracks in the asphalt. There are three other bikes there besides my own, two cheap Hondas and a Harley Davidson, and a brand new, bright red Ferrari. I assume that the car belongs to Vi for now; that chick cannot resist messing with pretty cars she finds on the street and hotwires a new one nearly every day. She always tries to return them if she can, since she wants to "turn over a new leaf" and whatnot. For now, the pink haired woman enjoys beating up other criminals, but she knows enough to leave Noxus and its members alone, picking on those who fly solo or have weaker gangs backing them. She often taunts the cops, though, despite being kind of a good guy, but the cops aren't chasing her any more due to the head's orders to attempt to recruit the violent pink haired woman instead of throw her in a cell to rot.

After parking my bike in the indoor garage I had built out of one of the first floor apartments, I shut the door and head up the steep, dirty yellow stairs, the Freljord heiress a few steps behind me. Her entire body is on alert in case of any surprise attacks, but her ice blue eyes show not a hint of wariness or suspicion. They are almost reflective, as if they are truly made of ice, as if the Freljord heiress is nothing but a doll on the inside. I wonder, who is the true Ashe Avarosa Freljord hiding beneath her ice princess exterior?

Vi is tinkering with her weapons, a comically huge pair of gauntlets fitted with the world's most complicated technology built by a eighteen year-old, on the landing as we pass by on our way up, the ground around her a mess of oil and grease. She never does her weapon maintenance in her house as she does not want to have to clean up afterward, and in these old apartment blocks, there are only two homes per floor, making the landing more or less personal property. Hence, the second floor landing always looks and smells like a car repair shop.

"The Ferrari yours, Vi?" I ask the pink haired chick, who shrugs and responds casually, brushing a sleeve across her sweat-dampened forehead, "More or less. Didn't even need to hotwire it, idiot left the keys in the ignition." She tilts her head to one side as she regards the Freljord heiress standing but two steps behind me, smirking, "I didn't know you swung that way, Katarina."

"There are many things you don't know about me," I respond, not bothered to deny that which Vi is implying. To my surprise, the Freljord heiress does not get flustered in the least, instead explaining in a calm, cool voice that we are not here to do _that_ and she is merely a classmate supervising me due to my not-so-exemplary behavior. Looking up at me in disbelief, Vi asks, "You're still dealing with that schooling crap? Shouldn't you be heading Noxus now that Marcus is gone?"

"My father is not gone," I hiss in response, my eyes narrowing as fury builds up within my body; how dare they all say my father is dead? Have they no faith in him, in his capabilities? "He is merely on a trip, he will return."

Raising her hands in surrender, Vi shrugs and responds, "I'm just saying what every crook 'round here's been saying. Some also say you're not fit to lead Noxus, cause you're a girl, and since you obviously are reluctant to step up."

I resist the urge to growl, asking Vi to relay a simple message to all the criminals she meets with this mentality: _If you doubt my strength and will, face me like a man instead of gossiping like a teenaged schoolgirl._ Grinning, she says she will, but warns me that there will not be much left for me to play with after she's through with them. Just one punch from the pink haired bruiser can break your bones, thanks to those heavy metal gauntlets and her surprising physical strength despite her relatively petite body frame, so it would be unreasonable of me to request that she leave enough for me to kick.

My apartment is on the fourth floor and is the one to the right, offering me a view of the shady businesses that run in this part of town. The largest sign visible from my living room window is that of an "adult toy" shop (you can see thewhips and chains on display from here) and there is a love hotel right opposite, so I have full view of prostitutes and their clients entering and leaving the establishment. The Freljord heiress seems unaffected by these sights, though her kind would consider them repulsive, instead setting her bow, bag and quiver down on my faded cream couch, carefully extracting the day's assignments from her way-too-neat bag (I mean, the damn thing is color and subject coded!).

With a sigh, I take a seat next to her at the small wooden dining table etched with symbols of Noxus, extracting the French, English Literature and Chemistry assignments from the mess that is my school bag, asking her which subject we'll be starting with. Instead of mocking or teasing me for my unexpected cooperation, the Freljord heiress simply points to the thick Chemistry worksheet, her face a perfectly blank mask while I grimace slightly.

"If you just walk out right now and make up some lie tomorrow, no one has to get hurt," I inform the white haired girl, pulling a knife from inside my pants and examining the gleaming, perfectly sharpened edge in a threatening manner. To my amusement and amazement, she remains unaffected, handing me one of her fancy pens and motioning for me to get to work. For some reason, I decide to oblige instead of punish her, setting my pen to the paper and kicking my brain into gear.

Halfway through the surprisingly easy worksheet, I grow bored and decide to try pissing the shit out of my new "buddy", poking her in the side with the back of her fancy pen. She flinches very, very slightly, she must be ticklish, and regards me with cold, questioning eyes, asking coolly, "Are you having some trouble?"

"I'm bored," I decide to whine like a child, poking her again when she returns her gaze to the mostly completed worksheet before her. She does not react at all this time; there is not a flicker of annoyance in those carefully controlled ice blue eyes. The Freljord heiress is attempting to ignore me, it seems, and I lean back against the couch for a moment, wondering how I should get about eliciting a reaction from my "buddy". She is such a stick in the mud, just like the rest of her fancy family. What's wrong with slacking and playing around once in a while? Nobles are never any fun, with their "too good for the rest of the world" mindsets.

The Freljord heiress remains completely unfazed by all of my actions, keeping her steady gaze upon the goddamn Chemistry homework before her. Her self-control is formidable, for she remains impassive no matter what I throw at her, be it a joke, a tease or a threat. Poised and elegant like a perfectly crafted doll, the Freljord heiress carries out the role she was born into without a hitch, as if she were born to play it. In a way, she was, as her parents did illegally "design" her before birth. The poor girl, does she really not mind it at all…?

Inwardly shaking myself to get a goddamn grip and stop being so soft, I return my attentions with a heavy sigh to the partially completed worksheet lying abandoned on the table, absentmindedly sketching the symbol of Noxus onto the twelfth page as I contemplate the answers to a particularly useless and pointlessly long question. If you want to separate those f**king materials, why did you mix them together in the first place, shithead? Why should I write step-by-step instructions for idiots on how to reverse your mess?

We graduate to English Literature, where we are supposed to write an essay after reading a stupid poem about war and death. Unfortunately, it is not "morally correct" for me to support war and death and say positive things about them; like every other pansy in class, I have to preach peace and denounce fighting and bloodshed, two of my favorite things in the world. The thrill you get from fighting, from ducking under a blade, from narrowly dodging a bullet, from sliding your knife across your enemy's throat, from putting your life on the line, is unmatched by anything else on this pathetic planet. The heady rush of adrenaline through your veins, the thumping of your heart in your chest, the warm flush of satisfaction upon achieving victory… Fighting is a most glorious thing! Sadly, the Freljord heiress refuses to allow me to write such things, guiding me slowly until I arrive at the conclusion she desires. I play along, for some unfathomable reason, and tackle the assignment obediently alongside her.

Just as we are about to move on to French, a subject I actually do not particularly mind, some classical music begins to play, a ringtone of some sorts. Gracefully, she extracts a 400-dollar smartphone (I stole one of the same model a few days back and sold it, so I know how much that thing is worth) from her pocket, tapping it gently before placing it to her ear, greeting stiffly, "Father." As he speaks, the Freljord heiress distances herself from me, not wanting me to eavesdrop, and I watch her expression quietly as her father delivers his oh-so-important speech that lasts five minutes. Throughout it, she remains stoic, her glassy eyes reflecting the world like the surface of a still, lifeless pond.

All of a sudden, a look of dread, of despair, of rage, flashes across the Freljord heiress' features, disappearing so quickly that I cannot quite be sure it was there. Her tone is still neutral when she responds to the caller, "I will be there right away, father. The meeting completely slipped my mind. Please accept my sincerest apologies." He barks something at her and hangs up, leaving her to slowly return her things to her bag. I wonder, who is she meeting today, and why would it possibly cause her pain? Why would she dread it, feel upset about it?

_Tryndamere_. The name enters my mind suddenly, along with a mental image of some huge-ass barbarian and a strong feeling of hatred and resentment. Something deep inside me demands I find this man and imprison him in a Noxian torture chamber away from the light, ensuring that he dies the slowest and most agonizing death possible after driving him insane. Shaking the urge away, I casually ask the Freljord heiress if she would like a ride home, though I cannot assure that she will return in one piece.

"That makes your offer sound most tempting," she murmurs softly to herself, so much so that I can barely hear her despite my enhanced senses. Shaking her head gently and speaking louder this time, she informs me that someone has been sent to pick her up, so she will have to decline my kind offer. Kind, huh… the only kindness I show is giving weak fools quick deaths.

I escort her down the stairs and to the street, where a huge, classy limousine awaits looking completely out-of-place in this dingy, crime-ridden, shady rat hole. A dude in a suit opens the door for her and closes it behind her before climbing into the back of the car, giving me a suspicious glare before they are out of sight. I simply smirk mysteriously in response, maybe that would make the Freljord family call off this stupid arrangement and save me from having to do any work. I have a reputation at stake; I cannot possibly start being a good girl just because some sentimental part of me finds Ashe Avarosa Freljord familiar.

I head back up the stairs and, due to a strange compulsion, finish off my homework for the day before slumping back on the couch and rhythmically sharpening my knives, staring at the myriad of holes in the ceiling caused by me using it for target practice. My mind is jumbled up with all sorts of weird emotions, making me feel very much like a typical, spineless teenage girl worrying about relationships, friendships and life in general. Why am I getting so damn soft all of a sudden? I never used to care about others, wonder about their lives, worry if they like me or feel like protecting them, what is going on with me?

"_There are times when one has to sacrifice their wants or needs for the sake of others," _the Freljord heiress' voice sounds suddenly in my head, weary and tired. I can practically see the pained smile on her face, the way her ice blue eyes reflect the light…

"_For you, it seems to be always," _my voice responds, soft and gentle, almost… _compassionate._ The revelation stuns me, how can I, Katarina Du Couteau, ever be compassionate? I am an assassin, a heartless killer who toys with her helpless prey, a murderer, how in the world can I ever sound so harmless, so concerned?

"_Indeed it does,"_ the voice in my head sighs softly, resigned to her fate, _"I, too, wish we could, but too many lives ride on my shoulders, Katarina."_

Damn, I think I am going crazy… Pulling out my phone, I send a text to Darius and tell him to be at the Noxian safe house in the nearest town in ten minutes, or else those photographs of him with Rainbow Dash and the rest of the childish, girly gang of cartoon ponies will be all over Noxus and the Internet. After receiving his positive response, I flip my phone shut and toss it on the table, putting my feet up on it and cracking my knuckles in anticipation. That Darius is built like a tank, huge and muscular, and it takes a lot of strength for a hit to faze him. Hence, I do not have to hold back as much as I did when I thrashed that Gawain punk from school, though I cannot go all-out as I might break the dude's bones. No sense beating up the help, good ones are hard to find.

_Ashe Avarosa Freljord… what in the world are you hiding?_

**Ashe's POV**

_Keep your head lowered, eyes on his feet. Do not move until father has greeted them. Behave. You can look up now. Not in his eyes, that would be rude. Behave._

"Well, Ashe, are you not glad Tryndamere took the time to visit you? I am sure he has much better things to do with his time."

_Respond positively, but without emotion. Keep your eyes blank. Behave. Greet him and his mother, bow. Do not flinch when you shake his hand. Behave._

"It is positively heartwarming to see you two getting along!"

_Nod your head and thank her. Do not react when she pets your head. Behave. Pretend to listen to her small talk. Respond formally, remain detached. Behave._

"You look as stunning as ever, Ashe."

_Thank him softly. Bow lightly, politely. Behave. Do not show any panic when they leave you two alone. Return your gaze to the floor. Behave._

"What have you been up to?"

_Do not bother responding, he will get mad either way. Keep your eyes on the floor. Behave. Do not flinch when he raises his hand. Grit your teeth, be silent. Behave._

_Behave._

_Behave._

**A/N: So, should I continue?**

**Haruka**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: A friend of mine asked me what the title of this story means, and I wonder if anyone else out there wants to know. Well, I'm telling you anyway. **_**Lilium **_**means 'lily' in Latin, and the Japanese term for girls' love, **_**Yuri**_**, means 'lily' as well. Also, the lily is a symbol of purity, hope and rebirth, among other things.**

**If any of you are on the SEA server, my Summoner name is Umbreon, if you want to find me. Let me warn you in advance, I am in no means a good player, so I most probably will end up feeding. My mechanics stink, I never use Ignite or Exhaust even though I bring them to the Fields of Justice, my skillshot aiming needs a lot of work and I cannot juke for my life. P.S I only play support.**

**I would like to thank everyone who took their time to review, your words mean a lot to me and really motivate me to continue writing! There are a **_**whole lot**_** of reviews so I cannot personally answer to each one of them unless I have something else to say besides "thank you", and I apologize in advance if you feel left out.**

**To Truna, it's alright, the NA server is the default one, so most people would assume that. Yeah, the idea of Darius' secret inner brony makes me crack up too, because you don't really expect it of a big guy like him XD**

**To PPearl, Hi-five! Caitlyn and Vi just work so well together, though I'm not sure who will be on top. I mean, Cait will make such a cute submissive, but so will Vi XP**

**To ShatteredStar0508, I am absolutely **_**thrilled**_** to have this story even **_**thought of**_** alongside a great fic like **_**Wounded**_**. Glad you like it! And I agree completely, Ashe is **_**way **_**too good for that barbarian.**

**To Dragzneel, I'm sorry, I keep forgetting to get about searching for you. Also, I don't think the Oceania server is the same as the SEA one… I appreciate the offer, though!**

**To StattStatt, my favorite reviewer:) I agree, I feel like making some really bad things happen to Tryndamere... *evil laughter* I will try my best to keep my updates of good quality, and hopefully, I will improve as time passes!**

**To Stormy Cloudz, game-wise, I find Kayle's ult to be **_**really cheap**_** because it gives invulnerability, and I think the new patch makes it completely cost-less, if I am not mistaken. All she has to do is ult the ADC, and the ADC'll be around longer to dish out massive damage. It also ruins the enemy team's fight plan as they usually go for the ADC (and APC) first. Morgana's ult works well with Zhonya's Hourglass, since they can't kill her to break the tether.**

**To Mastodonic, no, I did not know that. Well, Kat will be doing a lot of abusing in this story, though I think I'll make her focus on Darius since, you know, she has blackmail material XD**

**Haruka**

**Katarina's POV**

I arrive at school to find that my seat has been changed, instead of my usual spot at the back of the class where I am out of sight and mind, I am now to be seated next to the Frost Archer, who regards me with a steady gaze from glassy, lifeless eyes as I slump in my seat beside her, toying with my metal ruler as the shivering English Literature teacher avoids walking past my row and averts her gaze from me as much as possible. I yawn loudly, rudely, stretching leisurely and blocking the view of the blackboard for those seated behind me before resting my head against the table. Thanks to some girly, pointless thoughts, I was kept up all night, and I long to get some well-needed rest during lessons. Hopefully, despite my new position, I will still be ignored by all and allowed to do as I please…

Just as I am about to nod off, the Freljord heiress nudges my ribs discreetly, her eyes still on the blackboard. I simply edge myself further from her and settle my head in my hands once more, resulting in another nudge. Glaring at her, I hiss, "What do you want?" Despite having taken out some of my frustrations on Darius last evening, I am still in a rather bad mood, disgusted with myself for being so damn emotional. Even the toughest of my enemies will not dare to cross me right now; for their punishment will be a thousand times worse should they get on my nerves when I am in this state.

"Pay attention," she responds softly, not at all affected by the rage evident in my voice. Did this kid abstain from emotions so damn much that she can no longer tell them apart? With a groan, I flop my head back onto the table, wondering how far the Freljord heiress dares to push me. Does she hate her life so much that she is willing to risk pissing off an assassin known for her sadistic cruelty and relatively low tolerance?

"Katarina," she speaks sternly with what I would like to call the "mom" tone, eyes narrowing minutely as she elbows me in the ribs again. For some stupid reason, I am unable to bring myself to just hurt the damn heiress and get to sleep; it seems that my heart has returned from its vacation and is constantly giving me kicks to remind me of its presence. Unable to fight against the girly emotions in my chest, I give in, raising my head obediently and pinning my emerald gaze upon the teacher. She squeaks audibly in terror, for I am giving her the look a cat gives its cornered prey, and the Freljord heiress nudges me once more, rebuking, "Behave, Katarina."

"I don't have to," I respond, catching a glimmer of… _envy…?_ in her ice blue eyes for just the slightest of moments. My girly heart aches for her, welling with some sappy, useless emotions, and I decide to behave for her sake, shifting my gaze to the blackboard instead. The entire class is wide-eyed with disbelief, for though they cannot hear the words we have exchanged, they could clearly see her nudging me, and they are surprised that I did not gut the Freljord heiress with a ruler for it. If it were anyone else… they would surely suffer a terrible fate.

English Literature class was not too difficult to endure, but History is so damn boring it took a sizable amount of willpower for me to keep my eyes open throughout it. The old man is droning on and on about Nazis, Jews, the Holocaust, Adolf Hitler and stuff, reading aloud from the notes in a nasal monotone. Apparently, this Hitler dude wasn't quite right in the head and I think he thought he could gain God's favor by killing His people, I think (that sure makes sense, dude), and he wanted some pure-blooded country so he killed all who were not blond haired, blue eyed Germans when he himself was Austrian, I think (that makes so much sense too). If presented right, with some bloody videos full of bullets and bombs and shit, I would have been immensely interested in whatever Hitler did all those damn years ago. Unfortunately… this old man only knows how to talk incessantly in a voice that sounds like it belongs to the dead.

"Alright, class, please do workbook pages 15 to 18 right now and hand them up at the end of the period." Finally, the torture of listening to this old fart's droning has ended, and I am sure the Freljord heiress does not expect me to behave so well that I will actually do classwork. Immediately, I fold my arms on the table and rest my head atop them, ready for a nice half hour snooze while the nerds obediently do their work. Who cares about History anyway? No matter what they say, we do not learn from our mistakes, so what is the point of looking back at them and memorizing them? Humans are dark, disgusting beings, and most of them only care about saving themselves, presenting themselves in the best light. Father had always told Cass and I that we are to grow up to be better than that, to be someone who could honestly live with herself, to be someone who could protect everyone and everything dear to her.

_I'm sorry, father, I failed…_ Shaking away the painful thoughts concerning my younger sister, I yawn once more before dropping off into dreamland, the Freljord heiress' disapproving gaze gracing my back for a moment before she returns to her usual stoic façade. Fortunately, my sappy heart does not betray me enough to give me some girly dreams about fairy tale endings, if it did; I would willingly have gutted myself in disgust. _You're getting way too soft, Du Couteau. At this rate, you might as well join Darius in his My Little Pony marathons._

The next lesson is Chemistry, and we are to do some sort of experiment about neutralization with some weak acids and alkali. Instead of doing what the fat Chemistry teacher told me to, I carefully play with the chemicals in an attempt to get as concentrated a dose of acid as I can, ignoring the Freljord heiress' glare from the front of the laboratory (in the labs, we are to be seated according to names, so the Freljord heiress is right at the front while I am somewhere in the middle). When I am satisfied with my product, I experimentally drip some of it onto my worksheet, smirking as it melts right through it and dissolves a hole in the table. Though I have not used chemicals in a fight for years, I still have passable skills with them, for I had a good teacher when I was younger. He was some bald, ugly dude by the name of Singed, and I think he is still running rampant chemically bombing whatever he wants to. The dude's crazier than I am.

"Miss Du Couteau, what do we have here?" the teacher walks over and blanches when he realizes what I have done to the table, "What in heaven's name is in that test tube?"

"Oh, this?" I shake the tube in my hand casually, smirking when he yelps in fear as the liquid sloshes inside, "Just some good old concentrated sulfuric acid." I drip some of it onto the table once more, reveling in the terrified look on his face as yet another hole is formed in the tabletop. The other nerds sharing the table with me scatter like terrified birds, and those in the surrounding tables look tempted to do the same. An eerie silence has descended upon the entire class, like the calm before a storm, and I am honestly rather interested in seeing what kind of storm will brew here.

However, before chaos can break out, the Freljord heiress calmly strides over to me and places a hand on my arm, the one holding on to the test tube, and says softly, in the exact same tone and voice as before, "Behave, Katarina." The heck…? Is that her mantra or something? "Behave"?

"Lighten up, Frost Archer. I was just having some fun," I respond, flicking my wrist to splatter a bit of the acid at the nerds in the bench in front's feet, making them yelp and fall over each other to get away. She narrows her eyes and repeats those two words, her slender fingers wrapping around my wrist warningly. With a sigh, I give in to her, "Fine, fine, whatever you say, princess." The test tube slips through my fingers and shatters spectacularly on the tabletop, a mess of acid eating away at the table immediately as the nerds nearby yelp and shriek. Unfazed, the Freljord heiress simply lowers her head slightly and thanks me, her left arm hanging limply by her side.

When lunch arrives to free me from the monotony of lessons, some strange impulse within me makes me grab the Freljord heiress by the wrist, noticing when she flinches ever-so-slightly at my touch, and drag her down the stairs (I doubt she'd be able to land safely had we used the window) to the garden, where I promptly release her and climb my usual tree. The cat is there again, and it hisses at me before dropping to the ground and warily sniffing at the Freljord heiress, probably wondering if anyone associated with me can be nice. Coming to the conclusion that she is nothing like me, the cat happily winds itself around her legs, and when she seats herself under the tree, it clambers into her lap, purring loudly.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asks softly, her eyes on the animal she is tickling under the chin. When the cat's paws knead into her thighs, she winces minutely, making me narrow my eyes with suspicion as I shrug, responding, "I just felt like it." Is she injured…?

"You won't hurt me, will you?" she asks. It does not sound as if she is afraid; it seems almost conversational in tone, as if she were asking about something mundane like the weather. I shrug again, informing her that I cannot assure her safety for I am a rather… volatile… person, and I am pretty infamous for my inhuman cruelty and utter lack of mercy. Unthreatened, the Freljord heiress simply replies, "If you do, one day, hurt me, I hope that you will finish the job."

"What?" I bolt upright, eyes widening, unable to believe the words that just came from her mouth. "You want me to kill you?" Her eyes meet mine briefly, glassy and lifeless, hopeless and broken, before she brushes it away as a stupid comment. Unable to get those words out of my head, and the hollow look that accompanied them, I study the Freljord heiress silently as she continues to stroke the cat, eyes on the few expanses of alabaster skin not covered by black and gold cloth. Why does she feel the need to cover up so much both indoors and outdoors, even on a hot day like today?

As if it had heard my thoughts and wants to find the reason just as much as I do, the cat begins pawing at her elbow-length gloves, claws sinking into the fabric as it pointedly ignores all the Freljord heiress' attempts to dissuade it. Finally, it succeeds in tearing off a sizable chunk from the left one and happily toys with it, making a hurt expression when the Freljord heiress gently rebukes it and confiscates the scrap, whimpering pathetically and flattening its ears against its little skull. From this angle, the skin exposed by that hole is obviously discolored, an angry bluish-purple like that of a particularly bad bruise. Is that what she is hiding…? Is someone hurting her?

I long to leap down and rip off all those superfluous layers over her skin, to take in the extent of the damage done upon her body, to demand the name of the bastard who hurt her and to rip his balls off and feed them to him, but I remain rooted where I am, trembling with barely contained rage. Why… Why in the world do I care so damn much? Who is she to me? What the hell is she doing to me? F**k…

"What happened?" I ask calmly, my voice not even hinting at the mess I am inside. The Freljord heiress looks up at me wordlessly, questioningly, awaiting an elaboration, her body stiffening ever-so-slightly as her guard raises. The cat glares at me when her scratching ceases, adding on to its list of reasons to hate me, as I explain, "Your arm. It's bruised pretty badly."

If I am not mistaken, for the briefest of moments, her icy blue eyes were filled with fear and panic, like a child who is caught with his hand in the cookie jar. As quickly as it came, it disappears, and the Freljord heiress replies evenly, "It was an accident." When I ask her to elaborate, refusing to give in to her silence, she mumbles something about it occurring during Archery Club training hours. When I press further, stubbornly refusing to give in, she informs me that a junior in the Archery Club had knocked over the metal stand during practice, and when she bolted to stop it, she had gotten herself hurt. It would be a believable story if she were already injured yesterday or had archery practice before we met again, but it is not so. Why the shit is she lying to me…? _Well, you aren't someone people would pour their secrets to. They know you're more likely to blackmail them with what they say than to offer comfort._ I have a point there…

I decide to let it slip for now, telling her that she is not made of iron and she should not attempt to play hero any longer, for she might get herself killed. She mumbles something inaudibly in response and ignores all my attempts to make her repeat it, focusing completely on the cat who is absorbed in reclaiming the scrap of her glove. As the saying goes, I should "let sleeping dogs lie" or something, for they might just bite me in the ass when they wake up. Though I am reluctant to, I decide to let the matter slide for now, and to get the Noxian spies in the Freljord Mansion to keep an eye on her for my sake. Leaning back against the tree trunk, I casually fold my arms behind my head, staring at nothing in particular when the voices I have been hearing in my head pay me another visit.

"_He hurt you." _My voice is seething with rage, the tone itself deadly enough to kill. The Freljord heiress' voice responds, trembling slightly with fear and desperation, _"Please, Kat, let it slide."_

"_I did," _my voice growls, hatred evident in every syllable, _"I've been letting it slide for years now, I can't just sit back and do nothing, Ashe! Look at you, you can barely stand!"_

"_Kat, please…" _her voice is filled with terror as she pleads desperately, _"I'm begging you, let it slide. You can't do anything to him, there's so much at stake here!"_

"_I don't care if I get kicked out of the League, as long as he doesn't hurt you again!"_

"_Katarina." _Her tone is cold now, edged with steel, all the emotions from before having evaporated away, and I flinch inwardly as the Freljord heiress' voice continues strongly, _"The lives of my people are at stake as well. I will not see them thrown away due to something as meaningless as this!"_

"_How is this meaningless?"_ The Freljord heiress gasps sharply, as if a painful injury has been aggravated by touch or movement, _"You look like __**Amumu**__, dammit!"_ A choked sob follows, is it my own…?

"_Kat…"_

"_Please, Ashe," _my voice is trembling with weakness, turning my stomach, _"Please…" _Why the hell am I crying like a goddamn girl? Why is my voice so broken, so goddamn emotional? _"It kills me…"_

"_Kat…" _her voice wavers as well, painfully soft, sounding as if the words are being whispered right into my ear, _"I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry…" _She begins to sob, and I can practically feel the wetness of her tears seeping through my shirt, the trembling of her shoulders and the warmth of her body pressed up against my own…

As suddenly as they had arrived, the voices fade, making me wonder where and when they have come from, and what connection they may or may not have with the world I am living in now. Is there such a thing as past lives, or am I just being way too sappily sentimental? Dammit, I have no idea what spell it is she cast on me, but I cannot get the Freljord heiress out of my mind…

_Ashe Avarosa Freljord… do you know what you're doing to me? I'm becoming a f**king pansy, dammit! My freaking heart does somersaults and shit when I'm near you, I can't f**king bring myself to hurt you and I want to know you just for the f**king sake of it instead of for self-benefit. This isn't like me at all…!_

**Ashe's POV**

"Welcome home, Lady Ashe," the doorman bows low, mechanically, though his eyes betray some sort of concern as he continues, "Lord Freljord requests your presence in the third dining hall immediately."

_Be strong; do not falter. You will endure. Behave. Do not knock too loudly, he thinks it unladylike. Lower your head. Behave._

"Ashe, look who paid you another surprise visit!" father exclaims, an obviously fake smile plastered on his face as he gestures to the young man seated opposite him, "Aren't you immensely grateful to have a fiancé like him?"

_Nod and thank him, show no weakness. You will endure. Behave. Keep your eyes on the table. Keep your counsel. Behave._

"Well, it is Valentine's Day, so I must obviously pay my sweetheart a visit," the smile on Lord Tryndamere's face is terrifying; it warns me of what will come.

_Do not shudder, show no fear. You will endure. Behave. Speak only when spoken to. Use as few words as possible. Behave._

"Tryndamere, it is great to see you, but I must get going," father rises, an equally fake apologetic smile affixed to his face now, "Remember, I expect the two of you to carry yourself with the conduct becoming of those with such high breeding. I do not want anything like that happening again."

Flashes of that night begin flooding into my head: my ignored screams as he tore off my clothes, my choked sobs as his hands defiled my body, my helpless yelps as he pinned me against the wall, my desperate pleading as he pressed against me from behind, my terrified crying as I threw myself into my maidservant's arms when she walked in on us and saved me… If she had just been a second later, I would have lost it, the most precious gift a girl can ever give...

_Cease your trembling, fool. You will endure. Behave. Banish those memories immediately. You are nothing but a doll. Behave._

"Also," father stops at the door for a moment, "Try not to leave any bruises in obvious locations. The makeup is most tedious." My heart nearly stops in my chest as father continues, "I understand that a man needs to show a woman her place, to discipline her, and it is perfectly acceptable. However, we do not want private matters to be known to the world, don't we?"

"Of course, I understand, Sir," Lord Tryndamere's wicked smile sends chills running down my spine and ice creeping around my heart. My body is already bruised from yesterday's "disciplining", how will I be able to take today's in silence?

_It does not matter. You will endure. Behave. Grit your teeth, be silent. Everything is for the sake of the family. Behave._

He raises his fist the moment the door closes, sneering, "Daddy dearest isn't going to save you now, b*tch!"

_You will endure._

A hiss escapes through my gritted teeth, the blow sending me reeling. Quickly, I right myself, eyes fixed on his feet.

_You will endure._

The next blow sends me crumpling to the ground, the pain tearing through my stomach and drawing a gasp from my throat.

_You will endure._

Striking the wall heavily, I remain motionless as his booted foot strikes my stomach repeatedly, biting back the yelps that long to escape.

_You will endure._

I gasp softly as my head strikes the wall, my vision turning completely white. He pulls me upright by the collar, calls me a whore.

_You will endure._

His hands close around my neck, a primal desperation beginning to seize my body as I struggle futilely to breathe.

_You will endure._

His grip strengthens, but I refuse to allow my body to react to him aside from choked gasps.

_You will endure._

My vision fades to black, my head feels light and my body grows slack. However, I know I will not be escaping my torturous existence this easily.

_Katarina…_

_Kill me, please…_

**A/N: So, should I continue, or is this getting boring?**

**Haruka**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello, people of the world! As some of you may have noticed, for this story, I will be responding to reviews via private message. I apologize to those without accounts, especially if they feel left out, but I have to admit my Author's Notes are usually really long.**

**I've been playing normal games more often now, though I only play supports, and I'm glad to say I mostly do not feed too badly. AP Soraka mid is actually viable, I have realized, and her heals are **_**insane**_**. Maybe you guys want to give it a try? :)**

**Warning, there is a scene of murder in this chapter, though it is not long and I do not think it is too detailed. Is it…? Well, regardless, you have been warned.**

**Haruka**

**Katarina's POV**

Gunning the engine and speeding past a red light, ignoring the loud honks of protest from the bus that clipped my shoulder as I passed, I mutter a few cuss words under my breath as the familiar love hotel comes into view. The goddamn school took the liberty to arrange a "study date" between me and the Freljord heiress at nine o'clock on a Saturday morning, as if I didn't have any plans of my own, and did not even bother informing me of it until eight fifty that very day. And it so turned out I was on the _other f**king side of town_ at eight fifty about to set off on a debt-collecting trip with Talon and some greenhorns, to test them for eligibility to enter Noxus full-time. Immediately, I postponed the trip to later in the evening, ignored Talon's protests and sped straight for my apartment, and I swear that cape-wearing bastard said something about me having an "important date" (coupled with wriggling eyebrows) just as I kicked my motorcycle into gear.

Writing a mental reminder to kill him for it later, I swear as my phone begins vibrating in my pocket, making a sharp left and nearly flipping the bike over before picking up and snarling, "Hello?"

"Miss Du Couteau, you are ten minutes late. Do you expect-" from the fancy way this dude is speaking, he is most probably a butler or something to the Freljord family, and is probably very unimpressed with my house, my neighborhood and my manners.

"Shut it, old fart," I interrupt rudely, swerving sharply and overtaking a f**king slow, bright yellow Nissan to beat yet another red light, "I was on the other f**king side of town when the school goddamn called!" Hanging up immediately, I weave my way through the traffic at high speed, making an obscene gesture at the old man who yells at me when I nearly run him over when he was crossing the road. Sure, the lights were in his favor, but I'm in a f**king hurry, for Noxus' sake. He should thank all his lucky stars that I chose so kindly to swerve instead of running him over. I mean, he's already lived a long life, so why not kill him? If only the Freljord heiress wasn't taking up every inch of my mind, I would've gladly done it multiple times, to savor the satisfying feeling of ending a life so much weaker than my own.

Brushing past the bumper of a kindergarten school bus, I turn down the road leading to my apartment at three times the speed limit, and from the loud and satisfying crack I heard under the wheels, I must have run something over. Since the bump was not very noticeable, I assume it is a small cat or a bird or something, nothing really worth mentioning. Revving the engine once more, I sail past the Freljord heiress' limousine and do a spin before the bike skids to a stop outside my personal garage, making the butler flinch visibly. He opens his mouth to deliver some sort of lecture which I do not want to hear, so I warn him, "One word, and I'll cut out your tongue."

He gulps, turning a shade of fish-belly white, and salutes to the Freljord heiress before retreating to the safety of the limo, glaring at me suspiciously all the way. She, on the other hand, does not seem bothered by my threat or obvious bad mood in the slightest, following me up the stairs slowly. Her movements are strange, as if she is trying to keep them to a minimum, and instead of merely resting her hand on the railing occasionally, she is clinging onto it like a mountain climber to a rope. Did someone hurt her again…?

Picking her way gingerly across the oily landing of the second floor, the Freljord heiress bites her lip slightly as she steps over the car battery lying in her path, wincing minutely at the action and letting out the softest hiss of pain as she clears it. There is no doubt about it, she is hurt, but who the heck did it to her, and what did he do? According to the punk from school, it should be her fiancé, Tryndamere the f**ktard, but how much damage can a spoiled rich kid do to another? How much damage can he get away with doing, anyway? Does her family even know that she is getting beaten up?

"Katarina," the Freljord heiress' voice drags me from my thoughts, "How long are you going to stand there glaring at your door?"

Realizing that we have already arrived at my apartment, I apologize uncharacteristically and hold the door open for the Freljord heiress like some sort of servant, kicking it shut behind me. The resulting slam makes her flinch; a haunted look appearing in her eyes, but it disappears as quickly as it came. I long to ask her about it, about all the little things I have noticed, but like some weak-willed pansy, my words are clogged in my throat and refuse to come out. _Seriously, Du Couteau, book yourself in for the next MLP marathon with Dar-Dar. You belong there._

Wordlessly, she takes out the assignments for the weekend and gets to work, beginning with the dreaded Mathematics worksheet that is as thick as the f**king bible. Flopping down lifelessly beside her, I let out a frustrated groan as I glare at the joy-killing, life-wrecking paper, the Freljord heiress already somewhere at the third or fourth question. She is efficient, stoic and does that which she has to do without complaint, the kind of soldier Noxus would love to have under its command. Those with fiery attitudes sure make the place livelier, but in a mission, every leader wants to have men, or women or children, that follow orders instead of doing stupid, egoistical things that may cost the entire operation, or worse, the lives of a number of Noxians. If only she were a Noxian, instead of the Freljord heiress, things would have been so much simpler for me…_ Can it, Du Couteau, you're getting girlier by the minute. What do you think this is, Romeo and Juliet? I swear, if you ever go all fluffy lovey-dovey on me… Urgh. Just do your homework._ Shaking myself internally to silence my inner voice, I focus on the worksheet before me, trying to get it over and done with as quickly as possible.

"David blinks 24 times in one minute while Kenneth blinks 45 times in 90 seconds. If they blink together now, how many seconds will it take for them to blink together again?"

What a stupid question, who the f**k cares about when some idiots are gonna blink in sync? Do Math teachers really have nothing else to do with their lives but to make their students miserable? Urgh, this is a complete waste of my time. The only Math I need to know is the Math of money, nothing else matters. Okay, let's just get this shit over with. David blinks every 60/24 = 2.5 seconds. Kenneth blinks every 90/45 = 2 seconds. So David blinks at 2.5, 5, 7.5, 10... Kenneth blinks at 2, 4, 6, 8, 10... So the two idiots are gonna blink together again in 10 seconds. Is that right? Who cares, on to the next question. The sooner I get this over and done with, the better.

"Given that for x is greater than 0, x^2 + 1/x^2 = 6 and x – 1/x = 2, find the exact value of x^2 – 1/x^2."

Great, algebra. This is going to be a heck of a long day, and I honestly have no idea how to get about doing this question. Uhm… (x + 1/x)^2 = x^2 + 1/x^2 + 2 which gives you 8 since x^2 + 1/x^2 = 6…

…

Finally, I have completed the last question on this accursed worksheet and if I ever see Math again, it will be way too soon. The first question was a cakewalk, the second was a bit of an annoyance, but the following questions went deep into trigonometric territory, or as I like to call it, no-man's land. I had to ask the Freljord heiress to explain what the heck tangent, sine and cosine are a thousand times, and I still don't get it. Why the hell does tangent get changed into sine divided by cosine? Why the f**k do I need to know, anyway? It's not like I'll ever use this shit in real life.

Next, we move on the Electromagnetic Induction in Physics, another chore that requires a shit load of writing and a lot of memorizing, word-for-word. One of the questions is "Define Lenz's law", and if you do not give a word-for-word response, the goddamn teacher will take it as a wrong answer. The Freljord heiress refuses to allow me to just copy it off her and insists I memorize it, making me repeat it over and over again until she feels that I have it down. I want to just flip the f**king table and get about my life already, and there still is French, English and Chemistry homework waiting to be forced upon me. Urgh, I'd rather face Teemo than deal with all this crap…

Wait a second, Teemo? Who the f**k is that…? The name brings to mind a squirrel-rat thing with a green hat and a blow dart, along with a sense of extreme frustration and annoyance. Something about mushrooms, too… _Oh man, you're really losing it, Du Couteau. Maybe you should see a therapist like the county recommended. Evil, clothes-wearing rodents with killer mushrooms, that's your craziest thought yet._

The Freljord heiress gasps almost inaudibly, bringing me back to earth, and I glance at her with concern as she attempts to go after the worksheet the wind has blown off the table, wincing with every movement. To see her in such obvious pain makes my sappy heart ache, and I tell her quickly, "I'll get it." Before she can refuse, I have the damn thing back on the table in front of her, and she immediately thanks me with a dip of the head. Watching her write with as little wrist movements as physically possible, my growing rage gives me the courage to ask, "Is it true that Tryndamere beats you?"

She stiffens instantly, hissing lightly at the movement as her injuries punish her for them, an instantly recognizable look of panic rising in her ice blue eyes. She looks like one of Noxus' cornered prey, unable to run and growing steadily aware that death is gonna knock in a couple of minutes. Taking a deep breath to collect herself, she asks in her usual calm, stoic voice, her eyes stony and empty again, "Why are you so interested in me, Du Couteau?"

Shrugging and leaning back against the couch, I reply honestly, softly, the harsh, taunting edge that always coats my voice completely and noticeably gone, "You feel very familiar, I guess." _Dammit, Du Couteau, you might as well confess that you can't bring yourself to hurt her, you envy that goddamn cat she keeps petting every time you guys go to the back garden, she's turning you into a soft, harmless, declawed kitty and you actually want to get to know her better not for personal gain! What are you thinking, outwardly showing pansy-like emotions?_

The Freljord heiress looks stunned for a moment, her eyes widening ever-so-slightly, before she responds, "You… you too." Taking a deep breath to collect herself yet again, she begs in a pained, desperate voice alike the one I have heard in my head, "Please… do not pry. I have my secrets, as you have yours."

Though I am reluctant to, I acknowledge that I would not like it if an untrustworthy, more-or-less stranger with a notorious background for sabotage, blackmail and crime on the whole started grilling me for my painful secrets and back down, telling her, "For now, I will. But… is there anyone I can kill for you?" My voice is surprisingly gentle, like that of a lover talking to her beloved or a mother to her precious child. It is _sincere_, something it has never been since the day… _that_ day. She chuckles dryly, muttering a single word under her breath that makes my blood run cold.

"_Me."_

"Alright, scratch that, is there anything not fatal that I can do for you?" I ask, the light tone not at all betraying the sense of terror and concern welling within me. She looks at away from me, biting her lip nervously (and adorably), unsure of how far she can push me and how sincere I am being. However, it seems there is something she wants, something she is desperate enough for to risk being hurt, tricked or blackmailed by me for. "Please…" she begins, turning to face me as her eyes avert to the lower right, "Hold me…"

I immediately oblige, pulling the Freljord heiress into my lap and wrapping my arms gently around her, careful not to further aggravate her injuries. She winces slightly at the movement but wraps her arms around my neck in return, burying her face in my shoulder. Almost instantly, her body begins to tremble and her breathing becomes uneven as she starts to cry, her barely audible whimpers carving deep wounds into my heart. How long has it been since someone has held her, showed her affection and concern? How long has it been since she has let out the feelings she bottles inside?

"Ashe," for the first time, I call her by the name she has been given, and it feels so _right_ rolling off my tongue, "From now on, I'll be here for you, I promise." _What the f**k are you thinking, Du Couteau? You're not some f**king Prince Charming, you're a hardened criminal, heartless and merciless, you don't make promises like that, and you sure as hell don't keep 'em! Man up, you sissy, this girl's slipping past everything – _I cut off my inner voice, deciding to oblige my fluffy, girly self for just a little while. How long has it been since I have held someone, since I have been held in return? I probably need this almost as much as she does…

Her sobs grow louder the moment her mind processes what I have promised, her arms tightening around my neck, the already minute distance between our bodies decreasing even further. My heartbeat accelerates, the sweet scent of the Freljord heiress, no, Ashe, surrounding me and enveloping me in a sense of peace and contentment. Gently rubbing her back as she sobs, I reassure her that I will always be there for her and that she can tell me, show me, absolutely anything. Crying softly into my shoulder, Ashe has never seemed more fragile, more wounded, more…_ human_.

Even the coldest of hearts conceal within a human like any other, one who longs for companionship, for understanding, for _love_. Ashe and I… we are no different at this aspect, however much I may try to deny it. Every human being is a pansy, maybe to only one person, maybe to a certain group, or maybe, like the weaklings I look down upon, to the world. Maybe… maybe I can let it slide if I'm this way only to Ashe Avarosa Freljord and no one else.

**- Later –**

"Took you long enough, boss," Talon greets casually as I skid into the parking lot, the screeching of my tires making nearly everyone around us flinch, "I take it your date went – shit!" He clutches the back of his throbbing head and glares at me with a dark intensity that makes the greenhorns uneasy, "What the heck was that for?" However, it doesn't scare me in the slightest, Talon is weaker than I am and would never dare to raise his hand against me anyway. He practically _worships_ my father and the entire Du Couteau family, after all.

"Mouthing off," I respond, giving him another whack on the head for good measure, "Be glad I didn't knock you out." He chooses to sulk like a child in response, feeling the already-rising bump I left him as a reminder to keep his trap shut. Turning to the greenhorns, I order them to get their asses on their bikes and be prepared to either drive fast or eat my dust. With that, I rev the engine, going from zero to one hundred and twenty with a bang, heading for our first destination. Talon rolls his eyes and rockets after me, three of the greenhorns following almost instantly after. The remaining two look uneasy and choose to drive a little slower, at a hundred or so, as I continue increasing my speed until I hit a nice one hundred and fifty.

"Hey, boss," Talon shouts over the whipping of the wind, "You many want to slow down. Those two" he flicks his head back toward the general direction of those pansies, "can't keep up. We're gonna lose 'em at this rate."

"If they don't have the balls to keep up, they won't have the balls to stay in Noxus," I respond, stomping on the accelerator to bring my speed up to one hundred and eighty. Acknowledging that I have a point there, Talon brings his speed up as well, the five greenhorns looking uneasy as they begin to lag further and further behind. The test these greenhorns have to pass is not whether they can properly roughhouse a debtor, but if they have the balls to do absolutely anything and follow orders even if their lives may be at stake. Looking back as we speed down the more-or-less empty highway to the first debtor's shabby apartment, I notice that the two stragglers are so far behind; we will lose them at the next turn. One of them is braking heavily, I guess he's giving up, and stops his bike by the side of the road.

"Participating in these tests of yours never fails to amuse me," Talon shakes his head in mock disappointment as the second straggler gives up shortly afterward, "You have more balls than most of the men in this world, and you're a girl."

Swinging my bike dangerously close to his, I kick him in the shin, hard, making him yelp and nearly fall off as I growl, "This _girl_ is about to cut off your balls and feed them to you." He yelps an apology, looking genuinely scared this time, and when I see the intense, murderous glare I am giving him reflected in his eyes, I have to say, I cannot blame him. The unresolved fury I harbor over Ashe's injuries must be spilling over, for I look more pissed than I have ever been in my life.

_Hey, Ashe… how are you right now? What are you doing?_

Shaking the goddamn girly thoughts out of my head, I focus on the job at hand as the red-light district of the neighboring town comes into plain sight, neon signs advertising "escort services" and "adult toys" and "company for the lonely" plastered all over the shabby, cracked buildings. Here comes the difficult part of the test, maneuvering through the traffic and trying to keep up with me. Only Talon and I know where our destination is, so the three remaining greenhorns have to follow us through all our life-threatening antics to pass.

The very first traffic light ahead is about to turn red, and I raise my speed to two hundred, speeding across it and narrowly avoiding a green Jaguar who has the "right of way", scraping my ankle spikes across the car's pretty paintwork. The driver abuses the horn the moment I dart in front of him, cursing loudly, and I toss one of the random blades I keep in my pocket for situations like this at the car, breaking the windscreen and impaling the headrest of the empty passenger side seat. It is all over within seconds and I am on the other side, leaving the driver stunned and still as Talon speeds by him, two of the greenhorns right on his tail. The last one looks hesitant but rockets after us after a brief pause, his lips pale and his shirt soaked with sweat.

"Almost there, boys!" I shout, giving them some temporary hope, turning sharply into the next street and ignoring yet another traffic light, brushing the bumper of a delivery truck as I pass. Talon waits for a moment before hurtling after me, allowing the truck to pass safely, and one of the greenhorns manages to clear it right behind him. The other two take some time and almost lose us, but are willing to stomp on the accelerator to catch up.

Swerving sharply at a playground, almost running over a little kid playing ball on the curb with his friends, I rocket down the final street leading to our destination, Talon swerving even more sharply to avoid running over the stunned kid sitting in the middle of the damn road. The kid's parents are rushing over to him, shaking their fists and cursing at us "rich kids" for "bullying the poor". No wonder they live here, no one with money would want to raise a kid in a place like this district.

One of the men brakes sharply and gives up right there and then, unable and unwilling to risk running over those people to keep up with me, while the other two fly right by. One of them sticks to the side of the road to avoid hitting anyone, while the other displays the YOLOSWAG attitude and rushes right at the family, and from the ensuing scream, must have run over someone's leg or hand or something. Smirking in approval, I slow down a little to let the two catch up, delighted that the man does not look even the slightest bit guilty or disturbed by what he just did. This is the kind of man Noxus wants, one that will follow any order, even if it means death to himself or others.

Swerving into the decrepit parking lot outside an equally dilapidated apartment building, my bike screeches to a halt with Talon right next to me, the two greenhorns following shortly after. Dismounting, I walk up the creaking wooden steps and rap on the door sharply, aware that the difficult customer is the only one living within this small, dying building. Behind me, Talon tells the greenhorns to watch and learn, as they will be doing small jobs like these for Noxus until they have been deemed trustworthy enough to join us on huge-scale heists, bombings, gang fights and cool stuff like that.

"What?" the door swings open forcefully and a tattooed hulk of a man appears at the door, glaring down at me, "I ain't got any money for girl scout cookies, kid."

"Oh?" I immediately do a sweeping kick to send him sprawling face-first on the ground, easily climbing on top of him and putting him in a headlock, "Do you have money to clear your debts, then?"

He struggles futilely beneath me as I tighten my chokehold until he turns purple, releasing him just slightly so he will not pass out. Gasping like a grounded fish, he asks, "You're… from… Noxus…? You're a… little… girl…!"

Talon smirks as my eyes narrow, fully aware that one of the biggest mistakes anyone can make is look down on me for being young and female. I dig my boot into his spine mercilessly, watching as he sputters and flails around in agony, asking him once more if he has the money to pay us what he owes. Shaking his head, he tries to plead for more time, saying his investments turned out to be shams, his cousin gambled away a portion of the money… I cut him off before he can fully embark on his pity-party, telling him, "Noxus is not known for mercy. We expect to be paid on time, regardless of your pathetic circumstances."

"I… don't… have… any… money…!" he wheezes out as I turn to Talon and ask if this dude has insurance. Smirking darkly, Talon confirms that he does have it, and it turns out that if he dies, his mother will receive an amount of money that is just enough for his debts to be cleared.

Grinning dangerously, I ask the struggling man, "Hear that, big boy? If you die, we'll all be happy." Desperation and terror fills his eyes as he swings wildly from side to side, wriggling like a worm in a futile and pathetic attempt to escape. Pulling out one of my knives from my belt, I examine the sharpened edge before slowly sinking it into his cheek, making a long, deep cut while savoring the look of paralyzing fear in the teary eyes of my prey. Maintaining my chokehold, I use my other hand to systematically carve long, deep lines parallel to his spine on his back, claiming his blood for Noxus. He yelps and screams in pain as I continue killing him torturously slowly, making sure his last moments are nothing but pure, intense agony.

When I have finished, my hands and knife are soaked in blood, my victim's face frozen in a tortured, pained expression until his body returns to the earth. The greenhorns are pale and look sick, the pansies, and one of them actually throws up on the spot. Wiping off my hands on the dirty yellow curtains, I inform Talon, "You deal with the insurance company, I hate that kind of stuff."

"So do I," he grumbles, but he is aware he has no choice and salutes crisply, kicking the trembling greenhorn in the side and barking at him, "Get up, man! Have you any balls? Don't tell me you came to join Noxus without being prepared to kill!" The man whimpers like a puppy and hurls again, making me roll my eyes and grab him by the hair.

"Look," I snarl, "Noxus has no place for weaklings like you. So you'd better man up, or we'll dispose of you just like we did of him." I tilt my head slightly to gesture to the man's mutilated corpse, and the greenhorn turns a shade of fish belly white tinted with green, nodding hurriedly. I release him, spitting on him contemptuously, and head out the door without a backward glance. Talon follows, the other greenhorn right behind him, while the one still trembling on the floor stays behind.

"Everyone dies," I mumble to myself as I mount my bike, a dark memory threatening to surface violently, "It is simply a matter of timing and circumstance."

"If you stay too long," Talon calls out over his shoulder just before we leave, giving the ball-less pansy a friendly warning, "The cops may get you, and there's no way we'll risk anything to bail _you_ out."

When I am with Ashe, I am a harmless little cat who is more than happy to snuggle up to her, never once showing her claws. When I am without her, with anyone else, I become a cold-blooded tigress, fully capable of prying a man's bones from his body while he is alive and conscious without batting an eyelid. What does that mean, I wonder?

_Easy. You, Katarina Du Couteau, are falling in love with Ashe Avarosa Freljord._

**A/N: Since this chapter is sizably longer, I may feel justified in making the next one a longer wait… hehe.**

**So, should I continue?**

**Haruka**


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